


Communication is a Team Effort

by orderlychaos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 02:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: Daisy bumped his arm with her shoulder again.  “You should ask Coulson out.”“Why?” Clint asked quietly.  Coulson wasn’t going to do anything but say no, so why bother?“Well, generally people do this thing called dating.  I hear it’s fun,” Daisy teased.The arm of the couch sagged a little as Natasha sat down, her hand reaching out to scratch through Clint’s hair.  “That’s what I keep telling him, but so far he refuses to listen,” she said.“Nat…” Clint began, but Daisy interrupted him.“Maybe we can help you win him over,” she said.  “That’s what friends do, right?”Detective Clint Barton may have a little crush on a certain ER Doctor of his acquaintance.  (It's not much of a secret.)  What he doesn't know is that Doctor Coulson also has a crush.  On him.  Luckily, their friends are there to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twangcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twangcat/gifts).



> This is a belated birthday fic for TC. Happy Birthday!
> 
> Also many thanks to Nikki for reading over this for me! <3

“Okay, so what’s up with the face?”

Blinking a little at the words, Clint Barton looked up from his book. Clearly taking it as an offer, Daisy Johnson thumped down next to him on the break-room couch. She might only have been a newly-minted NYPD detective, but Daisy was also a force of nature. She was also grinning, which always gave Clint a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He braced himself for a series of horrifying and specific questions on procedure or one of his old cases.

(Daisy would be an amazing detective with a little more experience. But right now, she was taking the offer of ‘ask me any questions you have’ with a terrifying amount of glee.)

Raising his eyebrows, Clint eyed her, but Daisy’s grin never faltered. “Don’t you have things you need to be doing?” he said.

Daisy waved a hand through the air. “Nope,” she said.  “If anything, I’m bored.  Trip’s still stuck in some sort of nightmare meeting, and I finished what Sergeant May wanted me to do like an hour ago.”

Clint huffed.  “You could always do my paperwork?” he offered.

Snorting, Daisy shook her head.  “Nice try, Barton,” she said.  “So what are you sitting over here brooding about, anyway?”

“I’m not brooding,” Clint grumbled.

“You were totally brooding,” Daisy countered.  She bumped her shoulder against his arm.  “And don’t think I haven’t spotted the way you evaded that question, Detective.”  Her eyes lit up with a teasing gleam.  “It is a _woman_?  Are you having woman-troubles?”

Swallowing, Clint stared down at his book.  If it were any of the other guys in the unit, Clint would have played it up and made up some exaggerated story, but he didn’t want to lie to Daisy.  She’d probably spot it, but mostly, Clint just didn’t want to.  Despite his initial misgivings, Daisy had become one of the few people he trusted.  Clint didn’t want to do anything that might derail their growing friendship.  Besides, Daisy wasn’t like the assholes in Clint’s past.  She wouldn’t have a problem with Clint admitting he was bi, or that his current crush definitely wasn’t a woman.  Clint just didn’t want to have to make her keep that kind of thing a secret.  It was the kind of weight Clint didn’t want to burden her with.

“Clint?” Daisy said.

Clint blinked.  Shit.  He’d been silent for too long.

“ _Is_ it a woman?” Daisy asked, her eyes searching Clint’s face and suddenly far too serious for Clint’s peace of mind.  “It’s cool if it’s not, you know.  I’m not going to judge.” Her eyes brightened with mischief again.  “Unless you’re brooding over Captain Fury, ‘cause then I’m totally judging you for having a crush on the boss.”

She cocked her head to the side.  “Although, I would have to compliment your taste,” she added.  “Captain Fury is a total badass.”

“Uh…” Clint said.  “You do know Fury’s married, right?”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have a crush on our dear Captain,” Daisy pointed out.  She arched her eyebrow in a way that she _had_ to have learned from Melinda May.  “So _do_ you?”

Clint huffed and rolled his eyes, but he also glanced around the break-room to make sure no one was lurking.  This was the kind of thing that could be embarrassing out of context, and if anyone overheard and told Fury, Clint would never live it down.  “No,” he said.  “I _don’t_.”

Daisy leaned back with a faint smirk, her eyes widening with feigned innocence.  “But you _do_ have a crush on a dude,” she said.

“I… what… that’s…” Clint spluttered.

Shaking her head, Daisy sighed.  “You totally didn’t have a ‘no homo’ freak out when I mentioned having a crush on Fury, so you know.  It’s not that much of a leap to think you’ve had crushes on guys before,” she said.  “Now come on… who _do_ you have a crush on?”

Clint was kind of impressed by how neatly she’d trapped him.  Or at least, he was before the panic set it.  He’d been thinking 一 not _brooding_ 一 when Daisy had appeared, but it wasn’t like Daisy would read this thoughts.  He didn’t have to admit who he was thinking _about_ , either.  Daisy totally didn’t need to find out how Clint’s heart skipped a beat for a certain ER doctor at Triskelion University Hospital.  Doctor Coulson was smart, calm under pressure and had the kindest blue eyes Clint had ever seen.  And a really goofy grin when he let more than one of his small half-smiles show.

(It also wasn’t _just_ a crush.  That was something else Daisy wouldn’t be finding out.)

Clint sighed.  “I told you I don’t,” he said.

“Uh huh,” Daisy said.  “Please.  You were practically smiling.”  She levelled a sharp look at him.  “I’ve got eyes, Barton, and sometimes I even use them.”

Sighing again, Clint pointedly turned back to his book.  He didn’t think ignoring Daisy would work, but he had to try.  “Can’t you just leave this alone?” he said.

“If there’s something bothering you, you can talk to me, you know,” Daisy said quietly.  “I won’t tell anyone.  I promise.”

Sighing, Clint closed his eyes.  “There’s nothing bothering me.  Except you,” he said.

Daisy rolled her eyes.  Then she blinked.  “Wait,” she said.  “Is it someone _I_ know?  It totally is, isn’t it?”

Inwardly, Clint groaned as Daisy connected the dots.  There was a reason she was one of the youngest detectives in the NYPD.  When there was no explosion of laughter, Clint glanced at her, but Daisy appeared to be waiting for Clint to say something.

“It’s Coulson,” Natasha Romanoff said, coming completely out of _nowhere_ because she was a creepy, creepy ninja.

(Clint totally didn’t jump, even though he was sitting down.  Nope.)

His heart leaping into his throat, Clint swallowed down the urge to immediately start scanning the room for escape routes.  Shit.  He didn’t exactly need Natasha’s insights into this as well.  Clint already knew his feelings were stupid and completely not reciprocated.  He didn’t need anyone to actually say that out loud.

When Clint glanced up, Natasha was leaning against the doorframe, her hands crossed over her chest.   Clint hadn’t heard her come in, but then his ears had always been a bit shit.  Clint was also pretty sure she’d been going out for coffee with ADA Hill.  Natasha stared back at him, both eyebrows raised. She never put up with any of Clint's shit, but then she did have the dubious honour of being Clint’s best friend as well as his partner.

“Wait,” Daisy said, her eyes going wide.  “Doc Coulson?  The one who keeps patching you up after you get punched by the Tracksuit Bros?”

Clint scowled.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Natasha snorted.  “Liar.”

Daisy looked equally skeptical.  “No, wait!” she said when Clint closed his book and attempted to flee.  Her hand was warm on his forearm.  “I did promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow.  “Doesn’t matter if you did,” she said.  “I keep telling Clint I’ll stab anyone who gives him shit about liking a guy.”

Clint huffed, even though Natasha’s offer sent warmth spiralling through his chest.  “Thanks, but I don’t think we need that level of violence.”

“Doc Coulson _is_ pretty cute,” Daisy added.  “And smart.  And really nice.  I totally get what you see in him.”

Giving in, Clint slumped back against the couch.  “Yeah, well, it’s a _terrible_ idea,” he said.  “It’s only going to end badly.”

Daisy bumped his arm with her shoulder again.  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” she said.  “You should ask Coulson out.”

“Why?” Clint asked quietly.  Coulson wasn’t going to do anything but say no, so why bother?

“Well, generally people do this thing called dating.  I hear it’s fun,” Daisy teased.

The arm of the couch sagged a little as Natasha sat down, her hand reaching out to scratch through Clint’s hair.  “That’s what I keep telling him, but so far he refuses to listen,” she said.

“Nat…” Clint began, but Daisy interrupted him.

“Maybe we can help you win him over,” she said.  “That’s what friends do, right?”

“What?” Clint said.  “No!”

“Oh, relax,” Daisy said.  “Once we get you to open up a little and now scowl so much, it’ll be easy.  You’re already brave, loyal and a total badass.  Guys dig that.”

Clint turned his helpless expression on Natasha, but his partner was no help.  She was smiling and nodding in approval.  “Thanks, but I can handle this _on my own_ ,” he said.

Daisy looked at him.  “Actually, I’m not sure you can.”

“He really can’t,” Natasha agreed.

Clint had a sudden premonition of doom.  This was going to end _so badly_.

“Cheer up,” Daisy said, patting Clint’s thigh.  “We can totally do this.”

~*~

Biting back a yawn, Dr Phil Coulson resisted the urge to rub at his gritty eyes as he placed several patient files on the nurse’s station.  The files landed with a louder clatter than Phil intended and Phil winced.  He was more tired than he thought if he was dropping things.

“Sorry,” he said as several nurses turned in his direction.  Thankfully, he’d only interrupted the regular change-of-shift gossip session.

“Damn, Coulson,” one of the nurses, Bobbi Morse, said with raised eyebrows as she walked over to gather the files.  “You look dead on your feet.  How long have you been here?”

Phil squinted over her shoulder at the clock.  Huh.  It was later than he’d expected.  “Actually, I’m not sure,” he said.

“Doc,” Bobbi said with warm exasperation.  “You work way too hard.”  She paused long enough to give him a careful look over.  “How many shifts did you pull this time?”

Sighing, Phil reached up with a hand to massage the tense muscles of his neck.  It had been another long, chaotic Saturday night in the Triskelion University Hospital’s ER department.  “Just a double,” he replied.  “Carter had a date, and Woo promised his sister he’d babysit.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes.  “So naturally, you said you’d cover their shifts,” she huffed.  “You ever think you’re the one who should be spending Saturday night on a date, Coulson, rather than working?”

Right now, Phil was more concerned with food, a shower and about twelve hours sleep than he was about dating.  He wasn’t unhappy with how his life had turned out, and when he did get a little lonely, the feeling passed soon enough.  Besides, Detective Barton might visit the ER again soon.  Phil was mature enough to admit he’d stared a time or two, even if he’d never flirted like half the doctors and nurses did.

(Detective Barton was _gorgeous_.  And not just because of his well-muscled arms, great ass and blue eyes.  He was sweet, too.)

Sighing, Phil rolled his eyes at Bobbi, but he couldn’t stop his answering smile.  “So what’s the next wave of patients like?” he asked.

“Nothing too weird,” Bobbi said, handing Phil another set of patient files.  “But there’s a friend of yours at the back of the pile.  I put him on a bed in the back section. Also, there’s a bunch of residents that need to be taken around the ward again and Blake told me to ask if you could do it.”

Phil grimaced as he flipped through the pile of patient charts. Blake had somehow decided that the residents could benefit from Phil’s past experience in the _Médecins Sans Frontières_.  Probably because Blake was an ass.  Regardless, Phil ended up babysitting the medical residents more often than not.  Some of the skills he’d picked up with Doctors Without Borders _were_ important to pass on. Even if that meant a painful experience filled with giggling and gossip that made Phil feel every one of his forty-seven years.

“Do you think I can just not do that?” he said, expecting Bobbi to roll her eyes and tell him to deal with it.

“Of course you can, Coulson,” she said, and Phil blinked.  “Remind Blake how many shifts you’ve covered for him lately.  And if you could do that right in front of my desk, I would really appreciate it.”

Phil paused his flipping through the files and looked up at Bobbi.  “I can?” he asked.

Grinning, Bobbi nodded.  “Coulson, Blake owes you so bad you could collect until the new year,” she said.

Smiling back at her, Phil’s exhaustion receded a little.  A whole shift without having to deal with medical residents would be _paradise_.  “Bobbi, you are amazing,” he said.

“I know,” Bobbi replied with a wink.

Returning to the files, Phil raised both eyebrows when he spotted a familiar name.  He suddenly understood what Bobbi had meant by a friend of his being in the hospital.  Rolling his eyes, he gave Bobbi a cheerful wave and headed towards where the nurses had left Captain Nicholas Fury.  Hopefully, whatever madness Nick was involved in wasn’t contagious.

“Okay, so what did you do this time, Nick?” Phil asked as he pulled back the curtain to observe the man waiting for him on the bed.

Nick Fury, former Ranger and current Captain in the NYPD, smiled sheepishly.  Phil sighed.  He was no stranger to that expression.  It usually meant trouble.  These days, that trouble came with less bullets and bombs, even if Nick still always ended up saving Phil.  They’d met during Phil’s time with the Doctors Without Borders, when Nick had still been with the Army.  They’d both been younger then, and far more prone to throwing themselves at danger.  While Phil would always be proud of what he’d done in various war-torn corners of the world, he freely admitted that he liked being back in New York.

Before Nick could explain how he’d ended up in the ER, a small figure in a Wonder Woman costume rushed towards Phil.  Grabby hands snatched as his white coat in an attempted hug, and Phil tried not to trip over the small, brown-haired girl grinning up at him.  “Hi, Uncle Phil,” she said.

“Ana, honey, I’m going to trip over you one of these days,” Phil warned her gently, unable to keep the soft smile from his face.

Ana Marie Sitwell was seven years worth of cute, dark-eyed trouble and had Phil wrapped around her little fingers.  Just like almost everyone else in her life, because Ana was like that.  She was also capable of untold chaos.  She took after _both_ her father’s way too much -- particularly her biological father, Jasper.  Ana even had Jasper’s same sharp tongue when it came to critiquing food.  Phil was half convinced that Ana would be the world’s first superhero food critic, because if anyone would be able to save the world _and_ tell you how badly you’d cooked your spaghetti, it would be Ana.

“Sorry, Uncle Phil,” Ana said, widening her brown eyes as she attempted to look as contrite as possible.

With another smile, Phil snorted and turned his attention to Ana’s father.  Unlike his adorable daughter, Nick looked completely disreputable as he lounged on the bed.  He wasn’t in his uniform, which meant he wore black jeans and a black t-shirt, because that was Nick’s style.  A dark sweater and Nick’s familiar leather jacket were slung along the end of the bed, a pink pony stuffed into one of the pockets.

“So what do I have to sew back on this time?” Phil asked him, his eyes scanning Nick’s lean frame, immediately looking for injury.

“Aw, come on Phil,” Nick said.  Now that Phil was looking closer, he spotted the tight lines of pain around Nick’s mouth.  “You say like that you’re always sewing things back on.”

Phil rolled his eyes as Ana giggled and clung to him tighter.  “Hey, Ana,” Nick called out.  “How about you let go of Uncle Phil’s leg so he can fix me and go back to reading your book in the corner again?”

“‘Kay, Daddy,” Ana said cheerfully.  She scrambled over to the wall beside the bed where a bunch of picture books littered the floor.

As soon as Ana was distracted again, Nick let his smile slip.  He gently moved his right arm from where it had been lying on the bed, unable to completely hide a grimace.  Blood had soaked into the towel wrapped around Nick’s arm, and Phil gently pulled if off.  A jagged gash ran the entire length of Nick’s forearm, still oozing blood, and Phil couldn’t stop his wince of sympathy.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

With another glance towards Ana, Nick turned back to Phil.  “Embarrassingly enough, a mugger,” he said with a sheepish grin.  “I got called out for meeting on a current case, and since Jasper’s on that trip to DC and it was my day off, I had to find someone to babysit Ana.  So I dropped her off with Barton and his partner, and got jumped by a dude with a knife two blocks from the precinct.”

“Barton?” Phil said, swallowing at the name.

Nick shot him a knowing look.  Barton was a detective at Nick’s precinct, but more than that, he was Nick’s friend.  A friendship that consisted entirely of sarcastic banter and property destruction, but a friendship all the same.  Ignoring him, Phil gathered up the medical supplies he needed to clean, stitch and bandage Nick’s arm.     He wasn’t really in the mood to listen to Nick’s prodding again.

“Of course, _that’s_ the detail you focused on from that story,” Nick said dryly.

Blushing, Phil ducked his head.  “Shut up,” he said.  “Have you filed a report about the mugging?”

Nick paused, grimacing as Phil wiped away the dried blood with alcohol-soaked gauze.  “Yeah, yeah,” he said.  “I told Barton about it.”

“Nick…” Phil began.

Nick rolled the eye not hidden by his eye-patch, but his gaze softened as it flickered towards Ana.  “Barton was the one who drove me here,” he said, his voice dropping until Ana couldn’t hear it.  “Kept Ana distracted so she didn’t notice I was bleeding.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, but deep in his chest, his heart gave a solid thump.  He had no trouble imagining Barton doing just that.  Particularly after the rumours he’d found himself listening to now that he’d met the man.  “Well, that’s something,” he said.  “But Ana’s going to want to kiss it better as soon as she spots the bandage.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nick said, as Phil began to carefully stitch his wound closed.  “I’m just hoping she’s distracted enough when Barton comes back that she doesn’t notice until we get home and I can call Jasper.”

Phil blinked.  “Barton’s here?” he said.

Grinning, Nick nodded.  “Yep.  He went outside to call the precinct.”

“Oh, that’s… nice,” Phil said.  When Nick opened his mouth, Phil cut his old friend off with a glare.  “ _Nick_.”

“Phil,” Nick countered.  “You could just try asking the man out on a date, you know.”

Phil sighed, shooting a look at Ana to make sure she was still oblivious.  “What makes you think a man like Barton would want to date a stressed ER doctor on the wrong side of forty-five?” he said.

“What makes you think he doesn’t?” Nick said.  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Phil.”

Shaking his head, Phil pointedly changed the subject.  “I’m assuming I don’t have to remind you how to take care of stitches since you’ve had so many of them?” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick grumbled, but his eye glinted knowingly at Phil until Phil sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Dating isn’t torture, Phil.”

“Barton…” Phil began, before the solid weight of something small and cute ran into his leg again.

“Uncle Phil!” Ana cried.  “Are you done with Daddy yet?  I’m hungry.”

“Almost, Ana,” Phil replied, smiling because Ana always made him smile.

“I, uh…” a voice interrupted, because there was definitely some sort of cosmic design determined to keep bringing Detective Barton into Phil’s life.  “Doc, I think you have a superhero stuck to your leg.”

“Clint!” Ana said.  She let go of Phil to abruptly hurl herself at Detective Barton, who crouched down to sweep the giggling Wonder Woman costumed Ana into his arms.

“Detective,” Nick greeted as he threw his feet over the side of the bed.

Phil, meanwhile, found his tongue had somehow welded itself to the roof of his mouth. Detective Barton’s grey hoodie pulled tight across his broad shoulders, and his jeans were torn across one knee.  He looked less polished than usual, even if Nick had lost the battle a long time ago to get Barton to wear a tie. Phil noticed with a hitch of his heart that Barton’s nails had been painted a multitude of different colours by an unpracticed hand.  He was also cradling Ana close as he listened to what Ana was saying with equal parts awe and humour.  It sent something warm and painful spearing through Phil’s chest.  He swallowed heavily and tried to pretend someone hadn’t suddenly sucked all the air out of the room.

“So,” Phil said in an attempt to distract himself.  “Nick should be ready to go once he’s filled out all the required paperwork.”

“Sounds good,” Barton said with a lopsided smile.  “What do you think, Ana?”

“Yeah!” Ana said, giggling.  “Now we can get pizza!”

Barton sent Phil another smile as Nick carefully pulled on his sweater and jacket.  “So, Doc… Got long to go before you head home?” Barton said.  “I can swing by later with dinner as a thank you, if you’ve got time?”

Phil blinked.  “A thank you for what?” he asked.

Nick chuckled, attempting to hide it with a cough when Phil glared at him.  “Oh yeah, he’s _definitely_ not interested,” Nick muttered as he walked passed.  “Hey, Ana-banana.  How about you come help Daddy with his paperwork?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Ana said happily, scrambling down from Barton’s arms.

Phil watched Ana and Nick leave, hand in hand, before turning back to Barton.  “You don’t have to thank me for doing my job,” he said.

Barton shrugged and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.  “Yeah, well, I gotta be nice to the Doc who’s patching up the best Captain I ever had, right?” he said.

Phil smiled, but it felt a little forced around the edges.  Of course Barton would offer dinner as a friendly gesture.  He was a good man and that was all, no matter what Nick insinuated.  “Thanks,” he replied, “but I think I’m just going to go home and sleep for eight hours.”

Clint nodded, and was it Phil’s imagination, or did he look faintly disappointed?

“Cool,” Clint said.  “But, uh.  The offer still stands.  If you want to take me up on it later.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Phil said.  “I’ll try to remember that.”

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was absolutely _not panicking_.

Nope.  No, sir.  Totally not.

Panicking would imply that the disappearance of the green box he’d left on his desk was a serious matter.  Which it wasn’t.  Just because the special, customized donut he’d bought that morning had gone missing didn’t automatically mean things were a disaster.  It’s not like anyone had guessed that Clint had bought the donut for Phil.  Or that this was Clint’s third attempt to woo Phil via food.

(Last time he was in the ER, he might have overheard Phil complaining to one of the nurses about his inability to find a decent custard donut.  So Clint had found the best caramel-flavoured custard donut the internet could recommend, but _that didn’t mean anything_.)

And he hadn’t chickened out of giving Phil the donut, either.  He was just waiting for the end of his shift.  Obviously.  So there was no doubt a simple explanation for the missing donut.  Probably involving Daisy.  In hindsight, mentioning to Daisy that he might be buying Phil food in an attempt to woo him into a date was a bad decision on Clint’s part.  He should have immediately suspected that Daisy would take the idea and run with it.

(At least it wasn’t Natasha.  Although, Natasha had been smirking at Clint all morning, so she was probably up to her hair in whatever was going on, too.)

“Barton,” Sergeant Melinda May said from behind him.  “Is something the matter?”

“Have you seen Daisy?” Clint asked, turning to face her.  “Detective Johnson?  I’m, uh… looking for her.”

He tried to keep his spiralling emotions off his face, but judging by Melinda’s faint smirk, it wasn’t working.  “Yeah,” Melinda replied.  “She was heading out of the precinct.  She mentioned something about meeting Doc Coulson for coffee?”

The breath froze in Clint’s lungs.   _Oh, shit._

“Was she, by any chance, holding a small, green box?” he asked, shocked when his voice came out sounding almost normal considering his stomach was lodged somewhere in his throat.

Melinda arched an eyebrow.  “You mean your donut?” she said.  “I’m pretty sure she was, yes.”

_Fuck_.

This was… not good.

(Also, Natasha was laughing at him because she was _horrible_.)

“You can catch her if you hurry,” Melinda said, and oh _crap_ , was Melinda laughing at him, too?  “Diner on Eighth.”

“Right,” Clint said.  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.  “I’m gonna…”

“You do that,” Melinda said.

Swallowing, Clint nodded once and fled before his Sergeant changed her mind.

~*~

Phil cradled his mug of coffee between his hands and sighed.  Maria Hill had probably gotten caught up in her work again and lost track of time.  As a New York Assistant District Attorney, Maria did tend towards being a workaholic.  Phil really hoped she hadn’t forgotten, because he was hungry.  It was also one of his rare days off, and really, he hadn’t had a chance to catch up with Maria in ages.

“Hey, Doc C,” a bright voice interrupted him.  “Fancy meeting you here.”

Looking up, Phil smiled as Detective Johnson slid into the bench opposite him.  Daisy was Nick’s latest protégé, and truthfully, Phil had half-adopted her, too.  She was bright and full of curiosity, and no one else would go with Phil to see midnight showings of superhero films.  “Daisy,” he said.  “How are you?”

Daisy grinned, placing a small, green box on top of the table in front of her.  “I didn’t scare you, did I?” she teased.

“Not at all,” Phil said, which might have been a tiny white lie.

Daisy chuckled, but she didn’t call him on it.  “Clint 一 Detective Barton 一 is teaching me how to sneak up on people, only he calls them ‘infiltration skills, but whatever,” she said, still grinning madly.  “It’s totally cool.”

“That sounds fun,” Phil said. Part of him was almost wistful at the idea, and not just because having Barton teach him things would mean spending lots of time with the detective.

Shrugging, Daisy pushed the small, green box across the table.  “Speaking of Clint, he asked me to give this to you,” she said.

Phil eyed the box with suspicion.  “He did?”

“Promise,” Daisy said, her eyes dancing.  “Go on, open it.”

Still wary, Phil nevertheless pushed his coffee aside and opened the box.  Inside was a fat and _delicious_ looking donut.  It had been glazed with chocolate and then covered in what looked like cookie-crumbs and Phil’s stomach rumbled a bit at the sight.  “Oh,” he said.  “Detective Barton got me a donut?”

(Seriously, it looked _amazing_.  Phil hoped this wasn’t just another friendly gesture.  Although, he might interrogate Clint over his donut supplier anyway.)

Daisy snorted.  “You could sound a little more excited about that,” she said.

“No, I’m not…” Phil said.  “It’s not that I’m not grateful, I’m just… confused about why he’s giving me a donut?”

Snorting again, Daisy rolled her eyes.  “Because he likes you?  As in _like likes_ you?”

Phil blinked.  “He what?”

“He _likes_ you,” Daisy said.  “Seriously.  He’d been pacing a hole in the precinct trying to get up the courage to give it to you, like he thought you don’t like donuts or something.”  She shrugged.  “I think Sergeant May was close to knocking him out.”

Phil frowned, narrowing his eyes.  “I thought you said Detective Barton _asked_ you to give me this?” he said.

Daisy opened her mouth and then winced.  “Okay, so maybe not in so many words?” she said.  She sighed.  “Look, somebody had to do something.”  She leaned in, her face serious.  “Just… can you do me a favour?”

“A favour?” Phil echoed warily, not wanting to agree to anything before he heard the details, because he could be getting into _anything_.

“Yeah,” Daisy said.  “Kiss the guy.  Date him.  Just do _something_.”  She threw her hands up.  “ _Please_.  He’s unbearable with all the longingly staring into the distance business.  And really, you’ve both been dancing around each other for long enough to irritate anybody who witnesses it.”

“What?” Phil choked out as his brain officially went offline.  “What?  No… I… he… it this… what?”

“ _Kiss_ Clint,” Daisy said.  “And _soon_.”

“Detective Johnson,” Maria greeted, because _of course_ she’d appear right when Phil’s life had apparently entered a parallel universe.  “What on earth have you done to Phil?”

Phil was vaguely aware of Daisy explaining 一 or presumably that’s what the conversation and hand gestures was about 一 but he was still dealing with the whole concept that _Daisy thought he should kiss Clint_.

Because _Clint was interested in Phil_ , but was also _too nervous to ask for a date himself_.

The same man who’d once foiled an armed bank robbery by himself because he wanted to rescue the hostages.  That man was too nervous to ask Phil out on a date.

_Phil_.

On a date.

“I think I broke him,” Daisy said as Phil blinked back to reality.

Maria grinned.  “At least you’ve gotten him to go out on a date,” she said.  “I’d practically given him up as a lost cause.”

“What?” Phil said weakly.

Which of course, was _exactly_ the moment that Detective Barton himself burst into the diner, his eyes wild and his cheeks pink.  He might also have been panting a bit, like he’d run all the way from the precinct, but that didn’t make any sense.  Did it?

“Detective Johnson,” Maria said loudly.  “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?  I suddenly have a craving for sushi.  Phil, call me later.”

With another amused grin, Maria waved at Phil and dragged a blinking Daisy out of the diner.  Leaving Phil and Clint alone, staring at each other in awkward silence.

“Um,” Clint said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.  “I can explain?”

Phil looked down at the donut, and then back up at Clint.  As he stared, Clint’s ears turned red and Clint ducked his head, looking for all the world like he was bracing himself for rejection.  “Have dinner with me,” Phil blurted before he could stop himself.  “Please?”

Clint raised his head and gaped.  “But, I… You want to have dinner with me?” he said.

“Yes,” Phil said firmly.  “But only as long as it’s not a thank you.  I don’t want you doing it out of gratitude.  I want a…”

“Date?” Clint said.  He smiled tentatively, his eyes hopeful.

Phil blew out a breath and finally let his shoulders relax.  “Yes,” he said.  “A date.”

“Okay,” Clint replied, fighting a losing battle against his grin.  “I can do a date.  But does it have to be dinner?”

Raising both his eyebrows, Phil watched as Clint slid into the bench opposite, just like Daisy had.  Except, Daisy hadn’t sent butterflies swarming through Phil’s stomach.  “What did you have in mind instead?” he asked.

“Well,” Clint said.  “How about lunch?”

Fighting his own smile, Phil nodded.  “Lunch sounds wonderful.”

~*~

Lunch was, well...lunch was _amazing_.   Phil’s patience and compassion in the ER had always blow Clint away, but apparently it wasn’t just Phil the doctor.  Or how even in scrubs, Phil was _hot_.  Outside of the hospital, Phil had the same patience.  He was kind, too, with a well-hidden dorky side that turned Clint’s stomach to _mush_. Phil loved superhero movies and considered Peggy Carter to be the best real life superhero, and it might only have been two hours, but Clint was falling in love.

(He was man enough to admit it.)

When Clint’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he tried to check it without interrupting what Phil was saying about the _Howling Commandos_.  And only because he’d been due back at the precinct about an hour ago, but hadn’t been able to tear himself away from Phil.  By now, Melinda probably wanted to murder him.  Thankfully, the message turned out to be from Natasha, so he probably wasn't a dead man walking just yet.

(There were also twelve from Daisy, but Clint was ignoring those.)

_So, have you kissed him yet?_

Clint must have made a noise, because Phil stopped in mid-sentence to glance at him.  “Is everything alright, Clint?” he asked.

“Um, yes!  Everything is… great,” Clint replied, and he could feel his ears going hot as they turned bright red.

Phil raised an eyebrow in the way that Clint not-so-secretly found _really_ hot.  Clint ducked his head and glanced up at Phil through his eyelashes.  “It’s Natasha,” Clint said.  “I should probably be getting back to the precinct anyway.”

Aww, mouth, no.   _Why were you saying that?_

Humming thoughtfully, Phil reached out to grab Clint’s wrist.  Clint was completely distracted by the way Phil’s warm, strong fingers brushed against the vulnerable skin of his inner wrist.  He didn’t even notice that Phil was reading the message on his phone until it was too late.  “Umm,” Clint said.

Phil bit his lip and how the hell was a grown man so blatantly _adorable_?  There should have been rules against it.  It was completely fucking with Clint’s decision making processes.  “Allow me,” Phil said, and he pulled Clint’s phone out of his hand.

After tapping out a quick reply, Phil handed the phone back.  Clint hesitated, because he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what Phil had just done.  “If I get fired for this, I’m going to come and live on your couch,” he muttered.

Phil smiled.  “You’d be most welcome,” he said.

Warmth spread through Clint’s stomach.  “Oh, well,” he said.  “Good.”

Chuckling, Phil gently tugged Clint out of the way of the early afternoon crowds.  “Good,” Phil echoed, his warm hand coming up to cup Clint’s cheek.

Clint shivered, pressing into the touch, and then Phil was leaning in, his thumb shifting against Clint’s jaw.  Resisting didn’t even enter Clint’s mind.  He gave up on the words struggling to come out, instead tightening his grip on Phil’s sweater as Phil’s lips met his.  Clint’s stomach swooped as Phil’s other hand slid into his hair, and Clint tried to pour all the longing and hope swirling through his chest into the kiss.  Phil’s lips were warm and sure against his and Clint arched towards him on a breathless hum.

Keeping his movements slow, Phil deepened the kiss, and Clint shivered again. Having Phil’s arms wrapped around him felt right in a way Clint had never experienced and it sent warm, bright happiness bubbling up in his chest.  Clint wasn’t sure how long they stood there, kissing, but it still wasn’t long enough when Phil managed to pull himself away.

Blinking dazedly, Clint stared into Phil’s blue eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath.  Phil didn’t look much better, his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed.  Somehow, both of Phil’s hands had migrated to press against the small of Clint’s back, just above his ass, and Clint’s own arms were wrapped around Phil’s neck.

“What were we talking about?” Clint asked, because how was he expected to think after a kiss like that?

Phil smiled.  “You were saying you had to get back to the precinct?” he offered.

“Right.  Yeah,” Clint agreed.  He curled a little closer to Phil, wondering if Phil would mind if he buried his face in Phil’s shoulder for a bit.  “Five more minutes?”

Ducking his head, Phil held him close.  “Okay.”

Clint arrived at the precinct twenty minutes later, his hair and shirt rumpled beyond anything he could fix.  It was only at his desk that he thought to look at his phone and read the message Phil had sent.

_Yes -PC_.

Clint grinned.

 

End.


End file.
